


Grief Too Bitter

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2004-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-18 21:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5943139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus grieves, Severus tries to console him</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grief Too Bitter

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

Sirius Black died during the hour of the wolf, that nightly depth of darkness preceding the emergence of a new day in the course of which, tradition has it, the greatest number of souls arrive in and depart from this world. Requiescat in pace. I neither loved nor trusted the man, nor did I have cause to. He tried to kill me when both of us were but sixteen. Others loved and trusted him-notably Albus Dumbledore, James Potter's fateful brat Harry, and Black's sometime lover (and mine) Remus Lupin. Perhaps they were not foolish to bestow their affection upon him, although his attempt on my life could easily have gotten Lupin killed as well and his addiction to taking risks put the Potter boy in peril, too. No matter. I am willing to let bygones be bygones now that Sirius has gone to whatever reward awaits him, and I sincerely desire that he be at peace, lest any restlessness of his tumultuous spirit bring further grief or harm to Remus. I cannot truthfully say that I regret Black's untimely demise, but I do regret the effect that it is bound to have upon the man that I have loved (and sometimes simultaneously hated) throughout my adult life.

I was dismayed upon arriving at number twelve, Grimmauld Place to discover its downstairs deserted. In the confusion following the battle at the Department of Mysteries, no one thought to accompany Lupin back to our headquarters, which for a year was also the home that he shared with Black when his obligations to the Order of the Phoenix permitted him to remain in London. I do not precisely blame the others for abandoning Remus to his grief, although I confess that I am far from pleased that not one of them managed to give him a thought in the midst of their own pressing concerns. Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt cannot be faulted for their absence, as they were both hors de combat, as were Hermione Granger who like as not would have realised that her former professor needed consoling, Neville Longbottom who in all probability would have stood by the werewolf who gave him the first inkling of how to stand up to me, and Ronald Weasley who would not have been likely to give Remus a scintilla of thought had he been conscious, considering that his little girlfriend was sharing the hospital wing with him and his best friend was newly bereaved by the death of his godfather. Alastor Moody was detained at St. Mungo's for hours, first filling out paperwork on Tonks and Shacklebolt's behalf and then tarrying long enough to ascertain that Sirius's second cousin was going to survive her injuries. I am not unduly annoyed with him.

The Weasleys were summoned to Hogwarts because of their son's injuries, of course. However, there are two of them and I frankly do not understand why one of them could not have checked in on Lupin after being assured by Poppy Pomfrey that their son was going to survive. I am particularly offended by Molly's behaviour, because I know that Remus recently helped her deal with her fear of losing her own family members. Apparently blood is thicker than water where her compassion is concerned. I am furious with Dumbledore and Potter. Surely the Headmaster could have spared my lover a few minutes of his precious time between setting our idiot Minister of Magic straight and comforting the Boy Who (Yet Again) Lived. Albus knew of the relationship that Lupin and Black shared in their youth and had renewed following Sirius's escape from Azkaban; besides myself he may be the only one in the Wizarding world who knows for a fact that Remus is indeed a deeply grieving widower. As for the illustrious Harry Potter, who some think is destined to deliver us from the Dark Lord a second time...when I questioned Albus about Sirius's death, he divulged that the boy saw and heard for himself how broken Lupin was at the moment of Black's passing though Remus mastered his own overwhelming sense of loss well enough to keep Potter from plunging through the veil in pursuit of his godfather and perishing as well. Why in the names of all the Gods could the little ingrate not have contrived to return to Grimmauld Place after his interview with the Headmaster long enough to diminish Remus's pain a bit by acknowledging it and condoling it? He is as arrogant and smugly self- satisfied as his father, and because of his gross insensitivity to Lupin who has proved himself time and again to be a faithful friend, I am even less apt to forgive him his total self-absorption than I was to absolve James Potter of his.

I did not ring the bell upon arriving at headquarters. I felt quite certain that Mother Black was aware of her son's passing (thanks to Phineas Nigellus) and infuriated by it. Why? Certainly not because she had loved Sirius. She most assuredly had not. However, Black had made it known to his redoubtable dam (repeatedly!) that, in the event of his death, everything that he owned would become Remus Lupin's. Including her house. The very thought of That Abomination having inherited the house of her fathers would have been enough to give the old cow a fatal bout of apoplexy had she not already been dead. As is... well, I was confident that she was acting even testier than is her wont. Yet another reason that I hastened to Remus's side was my certainty that she had harangued him at length upon his return. Unlike Remus, I do not have a spell to utter in order to be admitted. Failing that, I employed one of the skills that I have mastered over the years whilst serving Dumbledore: magical breaking and entering. Mrs. Black's portrait was mercifully silent-and covered with more than the customary single curtain. Apparently Lupin had summoned the strength to silence her. I am glad. The last thing in the world that he needed would have been for her to reproach him for his lycanthropy, or his sexual orientation. Requiescat in pace to Mere Black-and for once, may her painting rest in peace, too!

I ascended the stairs silently, employing another of my skills as a spy, and arrived without incident at the bedroom that Remus and Sirius had shared. I started to knock but thought better of it. I am not such a fool as to suppose that my lover might not presently be angry with me for having outlived the other great love of his life. Lupin had not bothered to magically secure the bedroom door. What need was there? He is alone now, unless he wishes eventually to be reconciled to me. He cannot be caught in flagrante delicto. His privacy is at the moment more of a burden than a joy.

I opened the door quietly, stepped inside, and shut it behind me. Usually that would be more than enough to wake the werewolf. But tonight? He did not stir as I crossed the room to him, nor when I knelt beside him on the floor midway between hearth and bed where he had apparently collapsed after removing the tatty overcoat he had thrown over the Muggle garb that he has taken to wearing since I caused him to lose his position at Hogwarts two years ago; he did not even respond the first time that I called his name and stroked his cheek as lightly as I knew how.

When he finally became aware that he was not alone, that someone was trying to wake him, he choked out a single word in a voice unbelievably strained from weeping: "Sirius?"

"Hardly!" I answered far more sharply than I intended. "It's Severus, Remus. Wake up a moment so that I can help you get into your bed. You, ah, managed to fall asleep on the rug."

"Doesn't matter," he murmured. "Nothing matters now."

I sighed but refrained from snapping at him again. "Come along now. It will matter in the morning when all your joints ache from spending the night on a hardwood floor. Up you go."

He shook his head and pushed me away. When he opened his eyes, they were swollen and bloodshot. Worse, they reflected the unbearable pain, desolation, and hopelessness in which Remus was immured. It took my full strength of will not to look away from his despairing gaze. "I can't sleep in that bed," he croaked. "Not now. Maybe never again. I thought I would want to, but I can't."

I nodded. "Understood. You need a comfortable bed to rest in, though. Let me take you to one."

I thought he would certainly demur, but there was no fight left in him. "All right. The guestroom across the hall is empty. I can sleep in there, if you insist."

I rose from the floor pulling him up with me. He swayed and nearly fell, his legs unable for whatever reason to support him. Without giving it a moment's thought, I lifted him into my arms and headed towards the door. Remus is not a small man by any means, but he is sufficiently shorter than I am and wiry enough of build that I could safely carry him across the hall and deposit him on the room's four- poster. My back might pay for it after the fact, but I was none too concerned about that possibility.

"Put me down, Severus," he insisted without much conviction.

"It's this or Mobilicorpus," I replied. "Until I've given you a once over, I'm not allowing you a second opportunity to fall flat on your arse."

"My legs are just numb," he answered. After a moment he frowned. "Actually, I seem to be numb all over."

"That settles it!" I informed him sternly. "Hold on tight till I can get you into a bed."

He wrapped his arms about my neck and let me carry him across the hall without further protest. Once I had pulled back the bedclothes, removed his shoes and socks, and deposited him safely at the centre of the bed, I lit every candle in the room with my wand, sat down beside him, and took his pulse. It was slow and a bit weak but steady. I studied the pupils of his eyes, which thankfully were normal; but I was dismayed to note how pale he was. Remus is fair- skinned and given to pallor following his transformations, but tonight his skin looked positively bloodless, nearly translucent-and it was cold and clammy to the touch. Had I not known better, I might have thought that one of the undead had fed upon his blood. Without thinking, I began chafing one of his hands between mine. "You appear, not too surprisingly, to be in shock. Do you remember how you came to be on the floor in yonder?"

"I fell while I was getting undressed. Well, not exactly. I was suddenly overcome with fatigue and my legs felt rubbery, so I sat down. Not exactly gracefully, mind you; but I didn't collapse or anything. I had been by the foot of the bed, but I crawled a bit closer to the fire because I couldn't get warm..."

I nodded. "Let me help you undress and bundle you up nice and snug. Then I'll lay a fire on the hearth and get you something warm from the kitchen, if you like. A bowl of broth or a spot of tea."

"Nothing to eat or drink. I don't think it would stay with me. But I would like to get out of these clothes and rest a bit. Are the others back?"

"No."

He looked alarmed, "Is...is everyone else all right?"

"Yes." I helped him sit up long enough to take off his jumper.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Remus. We've a few in hospital but none are in danger. Some of them aren't any worse off than you are." I lay him back against the bed's four fat pillows and unfastened his trousers.

"I should go to them. What was I thinking to leave them alone like that?" He tried to sit up without success. "I seem to be a bit dizzy."

"As I already told you, you appear to have gone into shock. Not to worry about the others just now. They're in good hands. And now that I'm here with you, no one's alone. When you feel more yourself, I'll take you to see anyone you like." I slid my hands under his hips and deftly pulled off his trousers. (~Some skills you never lose~ I congratulated myself ironically.)

The big bed swallowed Remus into its depths. Lying there in nothing but his vest and pants, he looked absurdly childlike. When he began shivering, I drew the covers around him tightly and made to start a fire. He clung to my robes.

"Don't leave me! Please?" he implored, as his trembling grew more pronounced.

"I won't." I kept one hand on him the whole time that I wriggled out of my outer robe and unlaced and kicked off my boots. Then I lay down beside him, covered us both with the heavy bedclothes, and drew him to me, pillowing his head upon my chest so that the sound of my heartbeat could reassure him until he next waked that he was not alone. I was afraid-terrified really. I had never seen Remus Lupin so distraught. Not even when we were sixteen and I accused him of having conspired with Black to murder me. There was no hatred in my heart now, either, to keep me from sharing in his distress. His trembling gave way to violent jerking that turned into great wailing sobs that stripped the last of his voice away before subsiding first into silent weeping and then into motionless, exhausted sleep.

I pulled the wand from my belt and set a locking spell upon the door and a silencing spell upon the room. Remus did not need any visitors just now, nor to hear Mrs. Black greet the next Order member to arrive. Not yet able to sleep myself, I kept watch over my lover. I soothed away every small tremor that ran through his frame. Sometime after noon, I too yielded to Morpheus.


	2. Chapter Two

As tired as I was when I finally fell fitfully asleep, I awoke just past 4pm. I have never been a sound sleeper. Remus has told me repeatedly that he cannot remember a time when he was not a werewolf. As he was but three when he was bitten, I am not surprised that such is the case. Given what I was exposed to from infancy, I reckon that my insomnia-not to mention my hypervigilance, my distrust of my fellow humans, and my habitual melancholia-are equally to be expected.

When I returned to waking consciousness, I was hot. In more ways than one. Like as not, the comfortable weight of my lover sprawled across my torso and his familiar and well-loved scent would have that effect upon me in any event; but as Lupin and I had not been intimate in just over two years, I was even less amazed to be tumescent than I was to be awake. I reassured myself that my feelings were not getting out of hand by reminding myself that I needed to urinate, which by itself can produce a fine erection. Thus quieted, I carefully wriggled out from under Remus to go relieve myself.

He momentarily returned to wakefulness at the moment our bodies lost contact with one another and murmured for me to stay. Although his request was nowhere near as hysterical as it had been in the early morning, anxiety was still markedly apparent in his spent voice. I paused to rub the worried furrows from between his brows, inform him of my swift return, and lull him back to sleep before getting about my business.

When I came back from the water closet and pulled back the bedclothes of the guestroom four-poster to rejoin Lupin until such time as he was ready to rise and break his fast, I discovered him lying on his back with his vest hiked up slightly, exposing his lower abdomen which (along with the rest of him that I could see) had resumed a healthy pinkness whilst we slept. Remus no longer looked childlike to me. Indeed, by the late afternoon light he looked every bit of his 37 years, and worn. Very worn. But still beautiful. Desirable. I was startled at how swiftly my erection returned from the simple act of my gazing upon him. I swiftly lay back down beside him, but I could not force myself to look away-or to cover him. My fingers twitched with the almost irresistible impulse to stroke the bare skin of his belly and play with the line of sandy hair that runs from just below his navel to its terminus concealed within his pants. I groaned and my lover stirred in his sleep. I forced my eyes to his face, stroked his cheek with the back of my hand (which, unlike my fingers, was not trembling) and bade him sleep. Just a little longer. Sleep. To which bidding Remus gratefully succumbed.

Still I could not bring myself to pull the bedclothes up at least to the level of his chest. His chest respectably covered in its ribbed grey vest. (~You cretin! ~ I screamed at myself silently. ~This is not the time to lust after Lupin. Why in the name of all that's holy can't you respect his loss? Just because you think that Sirius Black is no great loss...~) My eyes crept inexorably back to Remus's abdomen. The tremor in my hands increased. I shut my eyes to shut out temptation.

Not a good decision! Instantly a fantasy began to play itself out within the confines of my mind: I let my phantom self touch that exposed patch of Remus's skin, coming to rest on the spot that I know all too well rests midway between umbilicus and pelvis. At first, it was enough to keep still and merely revel in the warmth and welcoming softness of his flesh. But soon my imagined hand had to caress it again and again until I found myself wanting (in fantasy and reality) to let it wander upward beneath his vest, travelling along the flatness of his abdomen to the smooth, nearly hairless expanse of his chest to find his nipples and fondle them in ways that make him moan.

I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from moaning myself, to keep from troubling Remus's rest, and let my eyes fly open to dispel my reverie. Only to find myself staring anew at that few square inches of oh so tantalizing flesh. I clutched my hands to my belly to still their quaking. (~Gods! When have I ever wanted him this badly? ~ I asked myself. ~Many times. Many, many times~ came the answer ~and now he's all yours. Black is out of the picture...~)

I stared again at the line of light brown hair disappearing beneath the worn grey fabric of Lupin's pants. I know. I know from experience that he likes for me to let it guide my hands to their waistband where I slowly, gently slide them inside. To cradle his balls in one hand. To stroke his cock with the other. Remus loves to be touched. He loves to be touched with all the hunger of a boy people feared to touch, a man people still fear to touch. Would it be so wrong? Why would it be so wrong?

I was pondering that question when he awoke. My face burned a dark, fierce red when I first discerned his eyes resting upon me curiously. He must have felt the weight of my stare pressing against him, pressing against him oh so insistently. Heard my ragged breath. Smelled my arousal. His eyes dropped to my lap. Saw my shame. I shut my eyes again.

I did not open them until I felt surprisingly strong arms around my neck, hungry lips pressed to my own, the first twitching of his cock against my thigh. "No!" I protested as soon as he ended his kiss, and I struggled to break free without doing him any violence or...or making him feel unwanted, unloved. (~Think, you great sodding dunderhead! ~ I roared at myself, desperate. ~Don't you hurt him. Not now. Not this time. You started this. Think of a way to end it without making him feel like a monster again that no one could love. ~)

"Love me, Severus. Please?" he whispered.

(~I do. I do. But I can't tell you that. And now...if I take you now, how could that be anything other than selfishness, anything other than lust?)

"Love me," he repeated. "I feel so lonely. And cold. I feel like I'll never be warm again." He paused and frowned, shaken by a terrible thought. "You do still fancy me, don't you...?"

"Stop it, Remus!" I exploded. "I'm not your whore."

(~Oh, no! I've put the blame on you. Today of all days! Why do I always put the blame on you? ~)

He closed his eyes. To shut out rejection, to hold back his tears. We have come down this path many, many times before. His throat began to work convulsively, but he was far too choked to speak.

When the first tear trickled down his cheek, I backhanded him savagely. "I said, stop it! I'm not your whore and you're not mine, and this cannot possibly be a suitable occasion to make...to have sex. You're overwrought. Understandably so. But we can't be foolish just because you're...distressed. About Sirius."

His hand moved to the slowly subsiding bulge beneath my robes. "But you want me, too, Severus. You do!" he insisted, sounding very confused and hurt that I had proved so recalcitrant.

I clenched my teeth and balled both hands into fists to avoid succumbing to his blandishments. "That's enough! We both know that I'm hardly the most honourable man in the Wizarding world, but I'm not enough of a cad to take advantage of your grief. Yes, I still fancy you and yes my cock would like nothing better than to ram itself up your arse after a two-year drought; but I don't think with the damned thing-appearances to the contrary-so I refuse to indulge its nasty little whims. For which you should be grateful, you dunderhead! End of subject. Now what do you want for your buggering breakfast?"

(~Don't fight me, Remus. Please, don't fight me. Not about this! ~)

His face went almost as pale as it had been when I found him lying on his bedroom floor. Without a word, he turned from me and lay on his side with his back to me, as far from me as he could get, curled into a tight ball, legs drawn to his chest like some Muggle photograph of an unborn child sealed in the solitude of its mother's womb. I placed one hand on his shoulder. He neither shook it off nor drew it to him. "Remus..."

"I don't want any breakfast," he muttered disconsolately.

I ran my hand down his back as far as the bottom of his ribs and he shuddered, whether from relief or revulsion I could not tell. "I know," I acknowledged, appalled at the botch I had made but not knowing how to break the impasse. "I... You don't want me to apologize, because when I try, I always manage to say something worse. But... You know that I never meant to say those things to you, don't you?"

"I suppose." He sighed. "It's hard to think straight today."

"I know. And that's exactly why I didn't think that I should force myself upon you. I woke up hard because... Well, who knows really? Most likely because we were in the bed together, and usually when we're in a bed together, we have sex. And I've missed you. The last time that we had sex together was a bloody nightmare, but...I still have feelings for you."

I walked around the bed to squat on the floor in front of him, never taking my hand off him as I did so. "I won't pretend that I liked Sirius. We both know better. But if I could bring him back to life, I would."

"Why?"

"For you, of course!"

"Why?"

"You should see yourself in a mirror, Remus! You wouldn't ask."

He shook his head. "I look sad? I look a fright? I look disgusting?" He locked eyes with me. "That doesn't make you responsible for my well-being. It's not like the Wolfsbane Potion, Sev. The Old Man couldn't order you to come take care of me."

I snorted bitterly but refrained from telling him that Albus Dumbledore had been indifferent to his suffering.

"Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to comfort you. I can't tell you why," I lied. "I've done just about everything that I possibly could have wrong, but I honestly just wanted to comfort you. I still do."

Remus smiled a wobbly, wistful, wary smile at me. "You've done many things right. And perhaps, as you say, I've been foolish and selfish myself."

"No!"

"You begged me not to treat you like a whore. There was some justice in that. I'm desperate enough to want you whether you want me or not- but I want you for you, I swear. A real whore wouldn't do."

"I know that!"

He chuckled mirthlessly. "You do? Well, that's a relief!"

"Why today? Why for the love of every God that ever was do you want to have sex with me today? Sirius would be furious..."

"Sirius is dead!" he screamed-or, rather, tried to scream and ended up coughing. I took him into my arms and tapped his back until the paroxysm passed. "Sirius is dead," he continued in a voice so faint I had to struggle to understand him. "He has no say anymore in who I give my heart to. Who I give my body to. We vowed, `Until death do us part', and...we've been parted." He cupped his hand over the grey cloth covering his genitals. "If cutting these off would bring him back, I'd make myself a eunuch. But he's dead, and there is no bringing him back. You're all I have left."

"Remus, even if I am, I can wait a decent length of time..."

He pressed his fingers against my lips to silence me. "What if I don't want to wait? Can't wait? I feel so cold and dead inside. So lonely! I want to feel warm and alive. And loved. Just a bit. Just for a very little while. I'm not so everlastingly stupid as to think a good fuck will make my grief go away. But it might make it a bit more bearable. Please? If it won't do you any harm, it might do me some good..."

I nodded silently and he took his fingers away from my mouth. "Afterwards will you let me take care of you? In some...saner way? Get you some breakfast? Draw you a bath? Help you get dressed? Stay with you till the others get back? That's what I need more than anything."

"Yes, yes, yes. Whatever you like, if you'll do this for me first."

So against my better judgment, I made love with him in the guestroom bed with its frilly pink drapes and linens strewn with hand-painted roses. (~It's always love, however hot it is, however controlling I get. But I can't say the words...~) I made love more tenderly and solicitously than I ever have in my life. I found a place inside me that I had no inkling existed, so that I was shaking with fear when we were done. He asked me what was the matter and I just told, "It was intense, is all. Very intense."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No." I forced myself to smile, and suddenly I heard myself blurt out, "I love you, Remus. I want you to be all right. Will you just please promise me that you'll be all right?"

His eyes widened at the words, "I love you," as well that might have. In over twenty years, I had never spoken them to him. "Good thing that I'm lying down, I think. My legs might well have gone weak again." When he began to tremble, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "Oh God, Severus! Did you really just tell me that you love me?"

I nodded.

Just before he cried again (~How can anyone have that many tears inside? ~) he told me, "To tell you the truth, I don't know if I'll be all right. But I'm going to try to be." He gave me a bewildered half-smile as the first tears fell. "That's quite an incentive that you've given me!"

Part of me glowed with pride and joy at the very thought; part of me wanted to falsely claim that I had lied.


End file.
